


with one's own hand

by Purpleyin



Series: Hartmon fanworks [9]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: American Sign Language, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hard of Hearing Hartley Rathaway, Hartley Rathaway Needs a Hug, I really struggled to title this, M/M, POV Hartley Rathaway, Pre-Slash, The Rathaway's A+ parenting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, but I'm half and half on it sounding like it should be smut, it's from a latin phrase, it's not smut sorry but maybe my next hartmon fic should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23687476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleyin/pseuds/Purpleyin
Summary: Cisco caring about Hartley takes him by surprise, with unexpected emotional baggage rearing its head at the worst time. Written for Hartmonfest's Hartmon ASL day.
Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Hartley Rathaway
Series: Hartmon fanworks [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1302293
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45
Collections: Hartmon ASL Day





	with one's own hand

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [biggayrhys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggayrhys) for a speedy beta.

Of all the things the dark matter could have 'gifted' Hartley with, more sensitive hearing sometimes felt incredibly ironic. Everyone erroneously thought of it as better hearing than them, better than he'd had before. Of course, it wasn't that simple. His powers were unpredictable, hard to control, and often more of a nuisance than they were useful. Without the hearing aids, they could easily bring him to his knees, render him senseless – it wasn't an improvement. His hearing wasn't better, it was just different, yet again.

Hartley grew up hard of hearing and with parents who were more concerned with keeping up appearances than dealing with his reality. There were accommodations he never knew about growing up that would have helped him. The things he did know about and made the mistake of asking for, he never got. Instead, he got questions about why couldn't _he_ adapt to the way the world was. They wanted 'normal,' or they wanted to fix him. They wanted someone who didn't exist, which meant they didn't want to consider anything that would make _his_ life easier. Hartley had long ago stopped expecting help. He stopped asking for it too.

As a consequence, he spent so much of his childhood trying to fit in, trying to prove himself worthy of their hard-to-earn love. Perfection was a too-high standard he was held to, with no consideration for the damage it did him when he simply couldn't do what they expected. He began to expect perfection as well – it was the hardest lesson to unlearn, something he was still struggling with. Being _the best_ had been such an ingrained part of his personality - a protection, practically a need – and one that had backfired on them all after Wells's manipulations left him intent on revenge. Intent on proving himself better than even his once mentor and Wells's new protege.

He'd known from a relatively young age he was different in more ways than one. Being gay was simply a step too far, just another difference his parents couldn't accept. It hurt all the more that they couldn't accept that because of how much he'd sacrificed of his self to be the model student, the model son, the astute young man who didn't ask anyone to repeat themselves. He taught himself to lipread and worked hard to apply context to what was said in order to never miss anything important. When that failed, there was the fallback of an observation, or, better yet, a sharp question; a deflection, a distraction. People tended not to remember your failing to answer a question when they only heard the words you did say, instead of what you were meant to, and thought you were an insufferable know-it-all. That reputation hadn't seemed so bad compared to the alternative of people seeing past the facade to who he really was, to who he couldn't be, all the things his parents couldn't accept. _Tempus omnia revelat_. Time reveals all things, which certainly rang true for him.

Today was one of the bad days when the only solution to the tinnitus his powers also caused was to turn up his hearing aids to try and cancel out the noise plaguing him. It had the unfortunate side effect of rendering him incapable of hearing most of the human vocal range, but to Hartley it was a relief to be free of the usual din in his head. Not being able to hear people was fine, so long as people didn't make an issue of it. Often he'd work from home instead, especially on his Mercury Labs workdays, avoiding the problem of interacting with people at all. However, it hadn't been so bad this morning when he'd joined Team Flash at S.T.A.R. Labs and Hartley wanted to make some decent progress on his new project.

Hartley's so engrossed in the problem of how to design better stress testing for the suit prototypes that he doesn't notice Cisco enter the room. Not until he catches Cisco's hand waving in his peripheral vision. Turning to see, Cisco looks slightly concerned, a crease in between his brows showing he's tense. He's probably worried Hartley hasn't eaten enough, which would be true – he tends to get distracted when in the flow. He knows Cisco does the same but it's usually Caitlin who reminds him of the need to eat. He can see Cisco's talking but he's speaking too fast to be able to catch enough words from sight alone. And a little too late Hartley realizes he does need to eat something. His brain is hazy and not so good at filling in those gaps of lipreading right now. Luckily, Cisco cottons onto where Hartley's focus is, on his lips. Fortunately, he draws the right conclusion, relief spreading on his face just before Hartley interrupts to tell him what's going on, with a technically unneeded pointing to his hearing aids to help explain more rapidly.

Cisco automatically speaks to reply, catches himself and stops, a scowl of annoyance at himself showing briefly on his face. Then Cisco does something unexpected. He starts signing, which isn't itself anything weird; it's _what_ he signs that makes Hartley's heart lurch. Cisco stands there, looking awkward but eager. There's a slight smile on his face as he slowly signs and then repeats the signs again, faster, more confident. The repetition doesn't help the situation much.

He'd taught Cisco some basic signs and how to fingerspell in ASL. The whole team had learned some Makaton too because it was useful to be able to communicate without words in a lot of scenarios, on missions and behind bad guys' backs included. What troubles Hartley is that Cisco is signing and he _doesn't know_ what he's signing. The signs are largely unfamiliar.

“Cisco, I can't...” is all he gets out, finding it hard to speak. Cisco stares back, blinking a lot, clearly confused. Once the confusion passes, he scrabbles around the lab, locating a scrap of paper and a board marker that Hartley knows from past experience will bleed through onto his papers, but he can't find the energy to care about that when his mind is stuck on what Cisco has done.

_I wanted to be able to talk to you when you're having a bad day. I learned more ASL._

Hartley stares at the note and swallows hard. He doesn't look at Cisco, but he can still picture him from a minute ago, bright-eyed and waiting for a reply Hartley couldn't give. Despite the surprise, it's only logical when he thinks about it. Of course Cisco wanted to be helpful, to learn more. Except he'd done it in secret, surpassed Hartley's knowledge and that's left Hartley clueless in front of him. One of the things he likes the least is being shown up, however unintentional. He knows he's liable to get defensive even when in a good mood to start with. It being because of _this_ hurts so much more than anything else it could have been. He's ill-prepared for a conversation about how he doesn't know that much ASL - the why reopens old wounds from his childhood he'd never expected to revisit. 

“I...”

It's all too much. He doesn't trust himself to be able to explain. His mind isn't working well, the combination of low sugar and a sudden rush of emotions pings a response of overwhelmed. He signs a basic “I have to go” and slings his satchel over his shoulder without looking at Cisco again. 

* * *

He gets a worried text from Caitlin later and replies briefly to reassure her he's okay, really.

Cisco doesn't text him, not directly, and he doesn't text Cisco.

* * *

The next day, the tinnitus is at a manageable level but he's still weary from the background white noise of his hearing aids and is thankful no one bothers him except to ask about a food order. He sees Cisco in the lounge when he collects his take-out cartons, and there's a pained expression when he glances up at Hartley. Cisco deserves an answer, but he can't have the conversation in front of them all. One on one will be hard enough.

Hartley picks at his food in his labs alone and waits an appropriate amount of time for it to be safe to grace Cisco with his presence and have a decent hope of it being just them – if he remembers correctly, Barry should be on the afternoon shift at CCPD, Iris back at the paper and Caitlin working on research.

He walks in, knocking on the door frame and startling Cisco. Normally, he'd expect some smart alec exclamation from the guy, but Cisco goes from open and startled to more neutral and somewhat closed off. He isn't the only one who gets defensive around here; Cisco just has different things that set it off – like his efforts being inexplicably rejected.

“About yesterday, Cisco. I appreciate the effort, but...”

“It's fine. I took you by surprise. Everyone has off days.”

“It wasn't that. I–I don't know those signs. I had no clue what you were trying to tell me.”

If it's possible, Cisco looks more puzzled than he had the day before.

“But...but _you_ taught me how to fingerspell. You taught me hello, goodbye and like a dozen other signs. I thought you-”

“Knew ASL? A bit, yes. I speak 6 languages fluently, but-”

“Maybe make that 5, because your Japanese is-”

“ _Now_ , Cisco, really?”

“Sorry,” he says, though it's half-heartedly. At least he doesn't interrupt as Hartley continues.

“I speak 6 languages fluently, but I don't sign _any_ fluently. I wanted to, ever since I was a child, but...I didn't start learning until after...until I started working here. I took evening classes for a while and then-”

“Then Eowells?” Cisco finishes for him, not hiding the anger that flashes up at the thought of him.

“Yeah. ASL wasn't such a priority with my life and livelihood in ruins. I'd paid upfront for the lessons, but it's...” The words start to stick in his throat. Cisco and the team do know what happened to him by now, what came between ruin and his attempt at revenge. It's still so difficult to talk about that part of his life, especially when every memory brings up the muddle of rage and fear he'd felt back then. ”Hard to maintain a class schedule when you're in excruciating pain half the time and moving from squat to squat.”

Between his plot for vengeance and wherever he'd switched to helping save the world on a semi-regular basis, learning more ASL had ended up permanently sidelined. Plus, there had been the matter of him not having anyone to practice signing with, his life so full of work and heroics there was room for little else. This is probably a sign that has to change. He'd lost touch with most of the people he used to know, including anyone whose acquaintance he'd once made in the classes: practice buddies who could have been friends, perhaps, if he hadn't placed his faith in the wrong person and valued other things much more highly. That which he'd held in such high regard ultimately came crashing down around him, leaving him with nothing – he still tastes the bitterness at these reminders.

But then here was Cisco too, reminding him he has friends now, that he's rebuilt some of his life and on stronger foundations this time. Here was Cisco assuming Hartley knew so much more and how he wanted to be able to do more as well, _for_ Hartley. Possibly that was a sign too, but of what Hartley isn't sure; yet another confirmation his parents were wrong, that he deserved better rather than needed to push himself to be better for them? Whatever it is, here he is, with such a simple gesture moving him so greatly. He's probably blowing it out of proportion, but he can't help how he feels.

“I'm sorry,” Cisco says as if the past is his fault, though really it's no more his fault than it is Hartley's own. They all had a part to play in the disaster. They all paid a price, but Hartley's given up counting that out. These days, knowing how easily the timeline can be tweaked, he's just grateful everything lead to this present where he has something good to show for the changes that ripped through his life.

Cisco gets up and crosses over to him, fingers twitching at his side. It occurs to Hartley that the action might be because Cisco wants to move to comfort him somehow. Even though Cisco isn't shy about it with his friends, they don't often engage in physical affection, merely an occasional hug. Usually one or the other keeps a safe distance between them – or at least, for Hartley that's why he does it, not wanting to further this alarming attachment he has to Cisco. That's part of why Cisco doing what he had, learning more ASL for him, had meant so much to him. He'd accepted Hartley's reality, accepted who he was and what he needed, and then he'd done more than what was asked for. He'd gone out of his way for Hartley, and sad as it is to admit, few people have ever done that for him.

“I appreciate it, Cisco.” He's not used to heartfelt confessions, not for anything that makes him vulnerable, but he tries desperately to impart what he says with the sincerity he feels. Hartley allows himself to reach out this time, a hand on Cisco's arm. It's a reassurance, a connection to mend what he was worried he'd broken by rushing off yesterday, though he should probably give Cisco more credit. He knows from seeing how Cisco is with others that he doesn't give up on people like that; he holds steady and weathers all storms. “I wish I knew what you'd signed. I wanted to.”

Cisco's eyes flicker up to where Hartley's hand rests but don't reach his eyes. He has a thoughtful downcast look on his face that Hartley doesn't recognize, chewing on his lip that would be more in character for Caitlin than Cisco but it could be he's picked up on the habit. When Cisco finally glances up again, Hartley thinks he spies another hint of nerves for some reason, something that passes over his features too fast to capture in words. Cisco says something lightly spoken. He's sure it's unintentionally quiet, though it still causes a flare of worry because he doesn't hear enough of it to be sure he heard right and he knows he'll have to ask him to repeat it.

“I didn't catch that. What did you say?” Hartley asks, genuinely curious what has got Cisco acting like this. His heart is beating wildly in his chest in response even though it can't be because of what he keeps hoping for.

Cisco doesn't hesitate to repeat himself, spoken clearly this time but definitely coming out a touch skittish in his delivery.

“Maybe...we could learn together?”

“Yes, I'd like that. I'd very much like that.”

Hartley breaks into a grin, feeling exposed by his happiness but unable to help himself. It's okay, though, because this is Cisco. He repeats it a few times and although it does nothing for his nerves, it does make him feel warm and safe. 'This is Cisco' is a mantra that somehow both comforts and exhilarates him.

“Good,” Cisco says firmly, followed by a matching grin. “So, it's a dat–I mean, _not_ a date. It's a...it's a lesson. That's exactly what it is.”

Hartley has to fight a blush from forming at the mention of a date, no matter how quickly dismissed it is. Cisco babbles a bit longer, hands in the air illustrating his point. He's motioning between them even as he denies it's anything but an opportunity to learn for two good friends. Despite his words, there's something about how he expresses it that conveys the exact opposite to Hartley, though he expects it's wishful thinking. Hartley zones out a little, mesmerized by watching Cisco and mulling what his body language means, which if he's not mistaken reads as possibly nervous. Mind you, he dismisses that as more wishful thinking, but it's too late, the thought stuck in his head. That the idea of it as a date came up at all gives him entirely too much hope, really.

“Thank you,” he signs. It's a sign that they both know well, though it doesn't come up often. Hartley signs it again emphatically before pulling a surprised Cisco into a hug that is nevertheless quickly returned.

He wonders if he could manage to flirt in ASL someday. It's something to look forward to.


End file.
